


Bad Life Choices

by NovelMiss



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Drunken Confessions, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, F/M, You are all too drunk, go home
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-15
Updated: 2015-11-15
Packaged: 2018-05-01 18:42:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5216546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NovelMiss/pseuds/NovelMiss
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Celebrations wind down, companions dip out, and the remaining drunkards traipse across Skyhold in search of party recruits and/or food.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Bad Life Choices

They were _supposed_ to be celebrating another dragon slaying… supposed to be. Somehow things had taken a turn to stupidity with the replacement of ale for some questionable Antivan liquor. Sera’s pale little hands were all over Farreha’s breasts for some reason, said breasts were all up in Varric’s face, and The Iron bull was offering Fareeha a mug just out of her reach with a look of unrepentant mischief. (Which was the reason she leaned over so much that the dwarf’s face was under assault.) Varric’s muffled complaints about Sera’s fingers poking him and if Fareeha was that anxious to show him her tits there were easier ways to do it, were mostly lost.

Dorian and Blackwall, who had consumed considerably less alcohol than the others, observed the party gone awry with mixed expressions. One looked too pleased for words, the other like a parent with a pack of feral toddlers. They all, however, were painfully intoxicated, fewer drinks or not. Cassandra couldn’t watch this anymore, Vivienne and Solas were right to decline the invitation of “a few  drinks.” She only hoped she could escape with little fanfare and keep her dignity intact.

“Goodnight, you hopeless drunkards.” She called as she collected her gloves and made to leave.

“Nooooooo~” Fareeha whined, then laughed, as she grabbed for Cassandra’s tunic, releasing Varric from his bosomy prison. She _just_ missed and almost fell over with Sera in tow. Sera’s hands were done with their groping, now content just to hug Fareeh’s middle, as she seemed to have successfully helped the other elf unbutton the first quarter of her shirt. Well, Fareeha had been complaining of the warmth. “We still are doing the celebratory thing.” The Inquisitor’s flushed happy face, usually mischievous in itself, was covered with a sloppy grin. Sera joined in, boisterously trying to cajole the seeker into staying.

No, nothing good would come from this.

“I had better get some rest, I am training with the new recruits tomorrow.” She glared over to the most influential person, The Iron Bull, with some annoyance. “Keep them from getting into too much trouble, now, you  understand?”

He laughed, and distracted the wobbling elves with the promise of another game of cards. They took the bait with excited noises and Cassandra slipped away, hopeful that nobody would be found naked in the gardens or face-down in the middle of the training yard in a puddle of their own vomit. She never wanted to see either of those things again, but knowing the raucous inner circle, it was only a matter of time.

More drinks, so many drinks,decidedly too many drinks,  and one by one the inner-circle dropped off. Sera was the second, passed out under the table, which really was not that uncommon an occurrence. Krem unsteadily entered the tavern at some point to call the party to some sort of order and maybe relieve the bartender of their presence; but quickly turned around unnoticed, not willing to witness his chief talk the Inquisitor into too many bad ideas lest he be held responsible for Bull’s trouble making. Dorian yawned loudly and excused himself muttering about beauty sleep on his way out, leaving Blackwall, Varric and Bull to deal with the very drunk Inquisitor.

“Maybe we should convince her to eat something or maybe go to bed…” Blackwall mumbled to his companions, Cabot seemed to want them there less and less the farther away from Midnight it got. Fareeha was also attempting to peek at Varric’s cards by trying to let her pet his chest hair.

“No, this is too good.” Bull laughed, at the pair of rogues.

“We need more people.” Fareeha sighed, losing interest in the game of cards, and Varric’s suddenly gained modestly, and stood rather quickly. She wobbled and almost fell over, but Varric was already at hand and attempted to make her sit.

“You should drink some water, Freckles.” He laughed good naturedly at her. She happily threw her lanky arms around his neck.

“Noooo, _lethallin_ , let’s get Josie and Leliana!” She perked up at her own suggestion of additions to the dwindling party, unsteadily rising, though not falling as she had previously nearly done.

“Absolutely not!” Varric protested, and glanced over at Bull and Blackwall for help. He had reached for a water jug to fill her mug. The Quinari laughed good naturedly and stood to swing her back to the table in a lighthearted little turn of a dance, causing laughter to bubble up from the elf.

“What about the Commander?” The Iron Bull had assumed the look and tone of a meddlesome matchmaker. His words made Fareeha stop in any case, which was all the dwarf really wanted at that moment. Ruffles might have been willing to humor her Inquisitor, but Leliana would notappreciate being woken up so early by someone so very, very, drunk. Curly on the other hand… Much more willing to put up with babysitting. Also, most likely to still be awake. It helped that he was very in love with the little elf, whether or not he knew it himself.

“I… Do you think he… I don’t want to…” Fareeha looked rather unsure of how to proceed, her face growing redder. She gave up wringing her hands to accept the mug of water from the dwarf and sipped at it for a few moments, trying to collect her scattered thoughts. Varric couldn’t help but grin.

“Snacks first, no matter what!” Blackwall said decidedly, carelessly tossing his bad hand of cards on the table. The motion was agreed on, and they quickly planned a raid of the kitchen. Blackwall would go ahead, and they would recruit Cullen to their cause. If everything went well, they would all be eating leftover sweet bread sooner rather than later. They took a few moments to gather their things, and departed. Cabot shut the door rather noisily behind them, grumbling to himself.

The darkness of the courtyard was peppered with lamp and torch lights. Fareeha leaned heavily on Blackwall as they took to the downward flight of stairs. He was half singing some hilariously _awful_ Orlasien tavern song, much to the delight of the remaining party. Once off the steps, he let the bossy little elf half waltz him across the lawn as best she could as he serenaded her. Little bursts of laughter and announcement of mis-steps tumbled from them as they moved with little grace over dirt, grass and puddles. The group paused at the stop between the barn and the kitchen steps, and Blackwall passed the Inquisitor over to Varric and Iron Bull.

“Until later, mademoiselle.” He bowed to her drunken curtsy and half stumbled up the arch of stone steps that led to the kitchen door.

“Well, Freckles, are we going to grab Curly as planned?” The dwarf observed her with amusement. With Blackwall no longer there to distract her, she watched the lit window of Cullen’s office with the smallest hint of longing on her face.

“Yeah, lets.” She smiled, unaware of how absolutely she gave herself away.

“Well, that’s a lot of steps, and Red will murder me in my sleep if I let you break your neck trying to climb them…. Hop on my back, kid.” Bull had leaned down, but nobody had to ask Fareeha twice. She yelled with glee as he hoisted her up and he made a mental note to never offer this again, she was way too excited about it.

“To the Cullenmander!” She gleefully slurred, and the trio turned from the kitchen door to the stone stairway. The steps wouldn’t have seemed so many to Bull if he hadn’t been carrying a fidgeting load of excited elf on his back. Varric tagged along despite wondering if he shouldn’t make sure Blackwall didn’t pass out in the kitchen. Then again, watching the Inquisitor being delivered to her… what were they to each other exactly?

“Hey, Tiny, are you sure delivering her to Curly this messed up is okay?” Varric was all for friendly devilry, but he had misgivings about leading Freckles into any sort of trouble.

“Its okay, guys.” Fareeha snorted, “He’s totally into me.”

“He sure is, princess.” Iron Bull chuckled. The door of the office was before them, and Bull didn’t waste any time knocking, which really just sounded like angry pounding. An annoyed muffled voice answered. It sounded something like _“Maker, what now?”_

“Do it again.” Fareeha snickered, and Bull complied, but while the knocking commenced, she called out, “Open the door!”

Silent pause, then a shuffle, and the door opened on what had to be a most bizarre sight.

Fareeha on the back of The Iron Bull, with a grinning Varric in tow, all in various states of drunk. The elvish girl laughed and slid from Iron Bull’s back.

“Well, here’s your precious princess.” Varric announced, half catching her as she stumbled upon touching the ground.

“Maker’s breath, are you alright?” Cullen was most certainly surprised and confused, but didn’t pull away as the Inquisitor was handed over to his care. She instantly curled into his coat, slouching as comfortably as she could against his side.

“We were going to ask you to come to the kitchen with us, but I don’t want to go back down those stairs with her like that.” Bull snorted.

“Fuck you!” she stuck out her tongue.

“Not my job, Boss.” He laughed.

“Well, you kids have fun, we’re not gonna outstay our welcome.” Varric turned and waved over his shoulder.

“Don’t have too much fun, though.” Iron Bull shot Cullen a dangerous glare before turning to follow the dwarf. The kitchens sounded like a good place to be. There were usually kitchen maids in kitchens and there was certainly enough time before daybreak to spend some time with one if she was interested.

“What was that all about, and how are you even upright?” Cullen lead the wobbly Fareeha to the chair behind his desk, and let her sink into it. Before she had taken to spending time reading all of his books it had been covered in junk, but since then there was only a fur throw in addition to the worn velvet cushion. She hadn’t stopped smiling, and he let her hang onto his hand.

“We were going to the kitchen… but you were still awake and I wanted to see you.” She leaned forward and rested her forehead on his arm. He could see down her very much half unbuttoned shirt, and averted his eyes, feeling heat creep up his face.

“You should go to bed, I’ll escort y–”

“No, I want to stay here.” He had no choice but to look at her, but her flushed face and drunk grin wore at his initial resolve. Her eyebrow arched, indicating something mildly inappropriate might come out of her mouth next. “I want to kiss you. Can we can go to the loft?”

“Absolutely not.” His face went hotter. The spell was broken. It wasn't that he didn't want to kiss her, he actually had been finding himself more and more distracted by thoughts of doing just that, and usually at the most inappropriate moments. His problem was with how intoxicated she was... and aside from his own qualms with taking advantage of a very inebriated Fareeha, there was Iron Bull's thinly veiled threat as well.

“But when are we going to… I like you and I thought-” She was quieted with a gentle kiss to the top of her head. Cullen was secretly a little glad that her turquoise eyes betrayed sleepiness. He didn’t want to fight off her advances all morning.

“I’ll be back, don’t move.” Cullen disappeared up the ladder that lead to the loft. He had ransacked his pitiful collection of belongings before deciding he really did only have two blankets and a pillow (and that was after stripping the quilt from the bed,) before letting the items drop down the hole in the floor. He couldn’t let her attempt the ladder, but he could help build her a little nest to sleep in at least.

He hardly had to worry about coaxing her into it though, she was curled up in the chair and sleeping by the time he returned. He built the nest of blankets for her anyway, topping it with the fur, and gently placed her in it. Which was not a great idea because there was no spare blanket to cover her with.

“You are going to be so incredibly hung over when you wake up.” he sighed down at her, gently pushing a lock of hair from her face. He knew what sort of morning she would be in for, and moved the recently emptied wastepaper bin a bit closer. He figured he may as well turn in and began snuffing out the candles, and as a rather tardy afterthought, covered her up with his cloak before climbing back up to the empty bed in the loft.

**Author's Note:**

> I forgot I had this in google Docs, so here is another thing I made.


End file.
